One armed + panther

“Wrestle with me,” Larten growled.

The vampire smiled bitterly and turned. Larten’s heart sank—the
General’s right arm was missing from just beneath the shoulder.

“Why the long face?” the General snapped, then glanced at the space
where his arm should be. “Surely this won’t deter you? It’s just a flesh
wound.”

“I…” Larten hesitated.

“… don’t want to fight a cripple?” the General asked softly, fire burning
in his eyes.

Larten stiffened. “I have no intention of offending you with pity. I was
merely going to say that I did not want to have an unfair advantage. So…”
He pulled his right arm inside his shirt, tucking it in tight.

The General gaped at Larten, then laughed. “That’s a first! Have at me,
then, youngster, and may the luck of the vampires be with you.”

***

Over the coming years Larten often trained with an arm tied behind his
back. But he never got to test himself against the broken-nosed General
again, for he died soon after Council in a fight with a panther. He was alone
and his passage went unmarked, but if anyone had been present, they would
have seen him smile just before his throat was ripped open. They wouldn’t
have known what he was grinning about, but he was fondly remembering
the night when a young orange-haired assistant had challenged him to a
one-armed wrestling match in the Hall of Oceen Pird.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Ocean of Blood, Chapter 10